A Pyromaniac's Day
by John Poe
Summary: The man under the gas-mask is not normal. But at least he knows that. A life-changing day in the life of a Pyro. Oneshot, a little heavy on the four letter words, but other than that pretty tame.


**Just a short one-shot focusing on my favorite character in TF2.**

**Hope you enjoy it!**

* * *

_Respawn... feels good. It feels like being... thousands of undissolved grains of sugar in warm liquid jello. But instead of floating in a soup of water and syrup, you are floating in gasoline. And after lazily backstroking until all your pieces are in a clump again, someone drops a match in the bowl. All the little pieces fizzle, disintegrate; the soup gets thick and is then gently poured into a mold. As you smolder and harden, things that feel like marshmallows drop in and they settle snugly into invisible pockets that had been aching for something to fill them. Then a lightning bolt zaps your clothes back on and you're back in the little white room, the old lady is on the intercom reminding you that you're worthless, and everything is warm and tingly. _

That's how Pyro had decided he would describe it, if anybody ever asked. As he jogged across the white, sterile tile of the respawn room towards a probable repeat of his recent gruesome death, he allowed himself a small smile. Perhaps it was a little over-the-top; he could just as easily describe it as, "You fall down, and then you're back again, and you have a headache," but he always felt sort of philosophical after cheating death. And even if the process wasn't exactly as romantic as all that, Pyro was starting to think that the more he died, the more he could feel himself being stitched back together by whatever voodoo it was that did it.

Out of habit, he checked the flamethrower in his hands, the nozzle on his fuel pack, the ammo in his pockets. Of course it was all set, it was always magically there, ready to go. Is was possible that his flamethrower was one and the same with his DNA now, at least as far as the cloning machine (or whatever it was) was concerned. Ever since he first put it together out of scrap it had seemed like a part of him. It was fitting that now it was possible that it could be in the literal sense. He ran his gloved hand down it's smooth, cool shaft – it looked so cute when it was sleeping. But it was time to wake up.

A click, a hiss, and he was ready to go. A test-tube phoenix rising from it's own failure. It went against nature, of course, to give his genes a one-thousand-two-hundred-and-sixty-third chance; but nature had nothing to do with him anymore. He was in the middle of the most desolate desert in existence; the only plants he ever saw were scraggly things that were probably only alive because they kept getting drizzled with blood. For that matter, the only animals around were horned lizards, the occasional scorpion, and the nasty infestation of things that pretended to be human beings. They were so annoying. Always either trying to kill him, or worse: eating all his food, buzzing around, breaking everything...

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING, MAGGOT?"

"Oh, I was just thinking about you, sir," Pyro said, knowing and appreciating that, at best, only a quarter of what he was saying could be understood. It appeared that the team's Soldier, the loudest and most unstable member of Reliable Excavation and Demolition had also recently died. He never seemed to pause and think about anything, least of all the interesting sensation of returning to life. What he did do was yell and spatter spittle on everything. Currently that meant that the lenses of Pyro's mask were getting the first half of a good spit-shine.

"YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO STOP MOVING UNTIL YOU STOP BREATHING, PRIVATE! OUR OBJECTIVE IS TO CAPTURE THE ENEMY BASE, NOT PLAN A SURPRISE TEAPARTY FOR THEM ENJOY WHEN THEY BREAK DOWN OUR DOOR! YOU WILL MOVE AND YOU WILL HELP ME CAPTURE MY POINT! THEN YOU WILL HELP ME CAPTURE MY NEXT POINT! THEN YOU WILL HELP ME CAPTURE MY FINAL POINT AND WHEN YOU HAVE FINISHED YOU WILL DO PUSHUPS UNTIL YOUR MUTANT MAGGOT ARMS CAN CARRY A REAL MAN'S WEAPON!," A loud slap against the metal of Soldier's rocket launcher served as a final punctuation to his rambling. "NOW MOVE OUT!"

Pyro offered a prompt salute that was followed by an insulting expletive that went unchallenged due to the fact that, through the filter of a gas mask, any three one syllable words can sound remarkably like, "Sir, yes, sir." Then he began running towards the fight, not really all that enthusiastic.

Teaming up with the frothing warrior lagging slightly behind him was not Pyro's favorite way to fight, but it just didn't do to run out alone. He had tried many, many times and had learned that lesson the hard way. To survive alone, first you had to get behind enemy lines. It seemed crazy, but that's the strategy he had found worked best for him. And that was still the plan. As soon as possible, ditch the drill sergeant and find some shadows to run through and brighten up.

Fluorescent lights and cool air conditioning abruptly gave way to a blinding sun and intense rays of heat that began cooking Pyro in his asbestos-lined suit within seconds. It was somewhat uncomfortable, but it got his blood pumping and quickened his step. The heat fueled him - which was only fair trade considering he was about to fuel a whole lot of heat. With his new found energy, he soon found himself well ahead of his unwanted, but necessary companion. Rather than wait up for him, which Soldier would no doubt find insulting, Pyro took the long route towards the front lines that went through the building the team's Engineer had been fortifying. Maybe check out the situation from the relatively safe vantage point of a window before charging out and rejoining Soldier again.

...Or maybe not.

When Pyro stepped through the door to the room the Engie had been building in, he stumbled and nearly slipped on the slick yellow glove that was the hard-hat's trademark. It was still on Engie's hand, but the hand wasn't attached to an arm. A lot of things weren't where they should have been, actually. The machines were nothing more than scrap now, of course. And was that...? Yep, busted up sappers among the wreckage. That was just great. The Engineer wouldn't be back for a while, and his gear needed time to be rebuilt. On top of that, that damn Spy wanted to play hide and seek... and the explosion that painted the walls a fresh coat of red hadn't been caused by the Spy alone. Dealing with all that really didn't sound like fun at the moment.

Pyro looked away from the carnage, a little upset, but not nearly as unnerved as any decent person should have been. This job was making him as desensitized as that grease-fire had made the nerves in his left thigh.

"We need to move up!" Soldier didn't give the ruined room more than a cursory glance. "The fighting is not here. It may have been here a little while ago, but it is now out that door! Let's go, go, go!"

"After you, sir." When he actually tried to speak as clearly as possible, and kept it short, he could usually be understood.

"What are you mumbling about, Maggot? You lead! My optimal range is medium distance and you are outfitted for close range and deflection! These are the basics! If we are going to survive, we are going to need to work as a team!"

Pyro couldn't help but giggle. "And if you are going to survive, you are going to need to work on your Soldier impression. Try being louder and less... smart."

"What was that, Maggot? Didn't quite catch that. Try speaking America's language less like Helen Keller with a sore throat and more like a-!"

It was always gratifying seeing that sneaky bastard go up in flames. That high pitched scream gave such a sense of accomplishment. It was just a shame he burned up so fast. It was also a shame that the screams often attracted unwanted attention. By some miracle, the stream of bullets that caught him by surprise only tagged his shoulder – the shoulder with all the scar tissue. Still hurt like hell, but it didn't feel like it had hit the bone and it probably wasn't going to slow him down much.

Didn't slow him down enough to give the enemy Soldier time to reload his shotgun, anyway. He had already been hurt pretty bad by the looks of things, so he didn't last much longer than the spy had. Normally this bastard could somehow find the strength and spite to keep fighting with his face half melted, but not today. Engie hadn't gone without a fight it seemed.

Nor had the BLU Spy. Jogging back out the way he came in, so as to use the cover of the big bridge ahead to give him a fighting chance with his bum shoulder, Pyro saw the man the Spy had been impersonating lying face down in the parched earth. Blood everywhere and spinal cord severed no doubt. He must have been killed the second Pyro left him alone, too. He was already fading away – being disassembled by tiny robots in the air for recycling or something. Somebody had told him that was what happened. He wasn't sure if he believed it, but it didn't really matter. It was just good that it got done. More than once Pyro had walked past his own corpse on the battlefield and it was an unpleasant experience to say the least.

An experience second only to getting shot repeatedly. He really hated getting shot. And somebody had decided it would be funny to make his turned back into ground beef. All those pellets at once; that could only be their scout. He was such a little prick. But just as Pyro was making peace with having his skull blown apart once more, the familiar sound of a mini-gun revving and firing evidently chased his assailant away. The scout hadn't gotten killed, but for the moment he was gone. Pyro wistfully wished that the spazzy punk had finished the job. His back hurt...

"Hurry! Get up, Pyro! Doktor! You fix him while I watch for leetle baby man!"

"Ja Vol. Come now, get up. And keep your eyes open, dummkopf."

Good old Heavy-and-Medic. One a giant brute, more gorilla than man; the other a giant sadist, and obviously some sort of Nazi. Pyro probably disliked these two the least out of everyone. A sad state of affairs when a Nazi and his comically oversized goon are the lesser of eight evils, but that's how it often seemed. But maybe Pyro was being unfairly biased due to the fact that it was the good doctor that had the Medigun. That thing was a wonderful invention. And seeing as how the two were always together, the so-called Heavy Weapons Guy got the benefit of being associated with the healing gun. And the Russian was uncomplicated. Or seemed uncomplicated, but that was just as good when you only had a working relationship. Luckily, that was all Pyro had with him. And that was all he wanted to have.

'Thanks, doc," Pyro said to his expressionless savior, really meaning it. That Medigun was the closest thing one got to real happiness out here. Or second closest. When the gun stops, you're fixed, but you still hurt. The bullets are still in there. That takes it down a notch. The moment the BLU Spy had started screaming had been the happiest moment of the day.

As his torn flesh curled back up into a solid whole, Pyro considered that a dying man's scream had been the best part of his day.

Every once in awhile, Pyro managed to depress himself with his constant introspection. He knew he wasn't a good person, he had kind of made peace with that. But he was **really** not a good person. It was good that he was out here in the desert with all these other scumbags, killing them over and over again. Maybe he actually _had_ died the first time he had been stabbed in the back out here. Maybe he was in hell, constantly fighting personifications of his life's sins or something. .

"Is time to move, Doktor. Come, we all fight together," said Heavy, who could have fit the bill for the physical manifestation of gluttony nicely.

"Nein. He vill not be any help to us if he can not stay in vone piece." Maybe Medic could be pride. He was pretty stuck-up. "Pyro, you are vell enough to move. Howevah, vhen ze mission is ovah, you vill need to respawn. For now, flank ze enemy and, if you can, force zem out into ze open where Heavy can see zem. Now go! And pay attenzion to the men vearing blue!" But, no... pride had to go to the team's snooty Frenchman. Medic was hard to categorize. He wasn't stupid when it came to strategy, though, so Pyro decided to heed his orders. He politely thanked the doctor once more, then left, swearing under his breath at the doctor's dismissive attitude.

"Whichever one of us dies first gives the other his dinner tonight, da?" Heavy chimed in, laughing. Not exactly a fair contest with the doctor always up his ass, and it was very possible that the Russian would consider the bet legitimate, should he win. God. Pyro hated Heavy-and-Medic the most out of everyone here.

As he ran through the shadows under the bridge, thankful to be alone again, Pyro could hear the booming laughter of the man with the mini-gun echoing off the surrounding rock walls. He seemed in good spirits. The bitter voice over the radio in his helmet proclaimed mirthlessly the successful capture of a control point just moments later. Monkey or not, the fatty knew how to do his job.

Of course, Pyro felt that he himself could easily be described as fat. Not that it mattered; nobody was ever going to want to look at an inch of his exposed body. But with all the running and everything, he felt he shouldn't still feel so damned flabby... but then again, respawn probably unburned calories.

The trip to the enemy's base had been short and uneventful. Nobody guarding the back way in. They must be really feeling the pressure. Lucky. He managed to escape the notice of the BLU demolitions expert running through their front door as well. If the Negro had been in possession of both his eyes, things might have turned out differently. Lucky again.

After carefully slipping in where the BLU Demo had come out, Pyro was surprised to see that the enemy base was virtually deserted. The faint threatening beep and whirr of a sentry gun could be heard bouncing around the steel halls, but other than that, nothing. Everyone would be running through here after a respawn though, so it was imperative that a good ambush spot/hiding place was found quickly.

It wasn't hard to find his way around. He had been here many times before, and besides that, this base was actually strikingly similar to his own. All the disturbing implications of that aside, it was rather convenient.

As was the unlocked bathroom to his right. The showers were almost as moldy as the ones back at RED base, but other than that, it was devoid of life. That made it the perfect place for the old 'hide behind the open door and look through the crack' trick.

It didn't take long for a pissed-off looking scout to run by, either. But Pyro knew that he wouldn't be able to keep up with him, and so played it safe and kept waiting.

Five minutes passed. During that time, Pyro had decided that Sniper was sloth, Soldier was wrath, Demo and Heavy made up overindulgence in booze and food, Engineer, Medic, and their shiny toys brought out his own envy, Spy and Scout got to share pride, and that the entire team, including himself, could probably represent greed and lust. He also pondered on the possibility that a devil was somewhere inside all that putrid shower mold, laughing at him.

He never once stopped watching the hallway for a target, though. He knew he really should move on and do something soon, but he was sticking around out of stubbornness. This ambush was going to happen and on his terms.

But it was going to be a challenge, evidently.

Long before he actually saw them, Pyro could feel the vibrations in the floor from the BLU Heavy's thunderous footsteps. The hum of a medic's protection was also painfully obvious. They were both coming towards him. It would be rough, but the big guy WAS slow... Gripping his flamethrower tightly, but doing his best not to let his gloves make any noise, Pyro waited until the pair had passed by and exposed their backs to him before striking.

They hadn't been expecting anything to attack from their bathroom, that was apparent. Indulging in a muffled battlecry, Pyro focused on the doctor first and didn't let up until his pristine white coat was charred black. By then it was time to take cover.

Obviously unhappy with the current situation, the BLU Heavy began wailing as a spoiled child might as he shot about four hundred thousand dollars worth of custom dual cartridges into the wall where Pyro had just been. Diving back into the bathroom he had just come out of had saved him. When Pyro had made his dive he had protected his flamethrower by tucking it into his body as he rolled, but he had paid for that with some bruised ribs. Now his mind raced as he tried to think of a way to survive being trapped in a room with a mobile machine gun blocking the only exit.

"RUN, COWARD! I'M COMING FOR YOU!"

"I would if I could!" Pyro screamed back, ducking down behind some rusted lockers. Pyro knew he was screwed. Even if that shaved bear caught on fire he could take it. And then that monster would dish out enough payback to send him swirling down the drain he was standing on. The sound of that horrible gun barrel spinning filled up his head until he couldn't think of anything else. Spinning, spinning, spinning...

And then he had an idea. It was a terrible idea. Really stupid. It would likely mean his insides would be the consistency of chunky salsa in about five seconds, but that was just about a normal day at the office.

So he unstrapped his axe from his belt, threw it to his right to hopefully act as a distraction, and then he ran out to his left. Bullets were cracking bathroom tiles into tiny pieces everywhere the moment Pyro moved, but by some miracle the tiles being shot at were the ones his axe had clattered on.

The Russian grimaced in pain as the flames spewed forth, engulfed his clothes, and began consuming him alive. Despite this, he kept his gun spinning and swung it around to meet his attacker - but Pyro kept spinning, too. Around and around he ran, playing the deadliest game of duck-duck-goose ever played; keeping his opponent trapped in a burning ring of fire while just barely keeping his ass ahead of certain ventilation.

Panicking and very, very on fire, the heavy threw down his huge weapon and made a dash for a shower knob, screaming horribly as he fumbled with the fixture. He did manage to get the water going, but it didn't do him much good after Pyro's recovered ax split his head like a piece of firewood.

It took awhile for the lone RED to catch his breath. That had been... pretty cool. In fact, through the combination of the adrenaline pumping in his veins and the greasy smell of burning flesh slipping past his filter, Pyro was feeling on top of the world. Invincible. He was getting to be pretty good. There wasn't a BLU alive who could take him on when he really tried. He was in their base, and they couldn't stop him!

Only half-conscious of the fact that he was deluding himself, Pyro whipped out of the bathroom and ran up the nearby stairs to the second floor. His breathing was shallow and a devilish grin was widening underneath his black, expressionless face. The monster was out of the closet and hunting.

The second floor was missing the wall that faced the control point currently being fought over. It looked to Pyro like his team had the edge. There were BLUs firing everywhere below him, but they were steadily losing ground. A fortunate side effect was the fact that none of them had the time to look behind them to notice the masked man slowly stalking up to their Sniper. The Australian was muttering darkly to himself as he fired off shot after shot, completely oblivious to his surroundings. Pyro actually managed to sneak up close enough to hear him privately taunt a victim by saying, "Here's _another_ touching story. Once upon a time, you died _again_, and _again_ and _again_. I bloody _sodomized_ ya, but ya just kept coming back for more. Now you're hidin' behind a bloody rock and yer too much of a cowardly little sh- Ah." A sharp bang made Pyro flinch, despite himself. "There we go. I always get my happy ending."

"Not this time, mate!" Fire flew and Pyro manically giggled. Then something occurred to him, and he just had to share it with the world. "Hey! I've just put a shrimp on the barbie!"

Attempts to drop and roll only caused the unfortunate man to roll himself right off his perch. As the sniper's flaming corpse fell to the hard ground, Pyro promised himself that he would never try speaking in an Australian accent again, but he continued to snicker to himself anyway.

"Hhy! Thhrhth uh Prro mhup hhrh! "

Karma didn't waste any time in punishing him. It was the BLU Pyro. Damn. He hated the BLU Pyro. The BLU Pyro didn't burn well. The BLU Pyro also had a stupid looking flamethrower – it had little angry eyes painted onto a toothy metal face that had been welded on to the end. What was up with that? There may as well be flame decals on it. What was really annoying about BLU Pyro, though, was the fact that BLU Pyro usually won. Even when they went toe to toe and just flamed each other, it always seemed like BLU could stay standing for a second longer than he could.

But not today. Pyro was on a roll! No BLU was a match for him right now! His red and orange torrent shot out, sizzled on the surface of BLU's suit, and steadily started doing damage. Instead of starting up the ridiculous grumpy flamer it was equipped with, however, the BLU actually put its weapon on the ground. Then, with startling speed, BLU Pyro ran forward through the flames, grabbed Pyro by the shoulders, and quite forcefully shoved him over the edge of the perilous precipice he had been standing on.

Like the Sniper before him, Pyro fell unceremoniously to the ground. Also like the Sniper before him, Pyro landed on the exact same spot Sniper had landed on. The still burning body wasn't exactly a stack of pillows, but it still better than just the ground. He hurt so bad he couldn't see straight, but it was only a one story drop. He wasn't dead yet. On top of that, the old bag in his head was saying that the second to last control point had just been captured. The fighting was all in the BLU base now. Good thing. Thirty seconds ago and he would have fallen right on an eager demo's turf. Pyro wondered why the universe was being so kind to him today and chalked it up to the fact that sometimes even the cosmos feel pity.

"Yrurh nrt ghttng hwhy thht hhthy! !"

Surprisingly, instead of going back inside the base, the BLU Pyro knelt down on the edge, hesitated for only a moment, and then jumped down onto the ground next to him. The BLU's legs made a nasty sounding series of snaps, but basically being immortal did have a way of making people care less for stairs.

Before Pyro could shake away his dizziness and get back on his feet, he was being throttled. It felt unusual. Even with the layers of fire retardant material and such between them, this was physically the closest he had been to anyone in a long time. His body automatically thrashed about, but on some level, he was sort of enjoying it. It was so... personal.

"Bhththrd... Yru grddhmnhd bhththrd... Duhh!"

Pyro's hands gave up on trying to hold back BLU from crushing his windpipe and instead, flopped around for something to use to get the fat-ass off. The part of Pyro's brain that was still rational directed his focus towards the lumpy husk crushed beneath him and the holstered Kukri that was just within reach. For a terrifying moment, it didn't seem like it was going to break free of the strap holding it in place, but with a desperate tug it slid out and the shimmering blade was beautiful in the sunlight. It had made some noise, though, and BLU Pyro had heard it. The BLU rolled away, stumbled back to its feet, ran a few paces, then pitched forward into the dust. Those legs really were in bad shape.

Pyro seized the opportunity, throwing away the butter knife and picking up his scratched up flamethrower that had landed a few feet away. It was a bit of a chase, but before BLU could get very far, Pyro managed to use the extended reach his flamethrower nozzle gave him to pin his doppelganger down to the ground.

It was at that exact moment the Announcer declared Victory for RED. It was so beautiful, Pyro felt like he was about to start tearing up. Evidently, the BLU Pyro was aware of the situation as well, because it was beating its fists on the hard ground in a veritable tantrum. It soon lay still however, obviously prepared to die.

But Pyro was savoring the moment. What a perfect finish. Today might have been his most successful day in his long career with RED. The Spy, the Soldier, the Medic, the Heavy, the Sniper, and now his usually victorious counterpart – all of them had fallen to him today. And in one go, too! Sure he had been lucky... But it was still enough to make a guy want to pound on his chest and bellow out a good Tarzan screech.

BLU Pyro seemed impatient, though. It was a little unclear exactly what it was trying to say when it harshly spat out, "Jutht dr uht! I dr nrt whnt thht phcg rf hyhnhth tr fuhnd mh luhgh mhiz!" but the sentiment was clear.

And Pyro almost went ahead and sent the BLU back to respawn. But then he thought better of it. Instead of pulling his flamethrower's trigger, he bent down, rolled the BLU Pyro onto its back so it was looking at him, sat down, grimaced at the pain starting to flood in now that the adrenaline was leaving, and started talking.

"...I want to tell you about my day."

He knew it was sad. He was well aware that he was a pathetic man for toying with his beaten enemy like this. But even if it was an unwilling captured prisoner, Pyro wanted to tell somebody. It was unlikely that he was ever going to have so much to brag about again, and he needed to describe what had happened to him. And he didn't want to tell anybody on his team – they wouldn't want to talk to him anyway.

So he started from when he and Soldier had left the base and kept going until the very end. He didn't really have much of a talent for story-telling and he didn't embellish much, so he was finished in about two minutes. His audience didn't so much as move or make a sound the entire time. But after he had finished and a silent thirty seconds had passed, Pyro was surprised to see a shaky gloved hand wrench the bottom half of BLU Pyro's gas mask up.

"What... the hell... have you been saying?"

Pyro could not answer. He hadn't really registered the question. He was too busy being terrified. He was used to the BLU Pyro with the mask all the way on. He didn't feel comfortable anymore. He didn't feel safe. He never liked meeting new people, and that pained wheezing voice that lacked any sort of identifiable emotion belonged to someone he did not know.

He raised his previously forgotten flamethrower up threateningly and pointed it squarely at the dark cracking lips that were curling into a sneer.

"Good. Now we're on... the same page." BLU Pyro's breathing sounded extremely labored. "I've had enough of your... taunting... or apologies ...or whatever. Hurry up and... off me before... your pack of Hyenas shows up to do it. They'll have... finished off... everybody in the base... by now."

The jaw, the cheeks, the very tip of the nose, the neck; it was all so pale. So, so pale. Pyro couldn't believe what was happening. He was trembling everywhere. He suddenly felt like it made a lot of sense to run away.

"You hearing me... you bastard?"

"I wasn't taunting you!" Pyro practically screamed, once again hiding behind his flamethrower. "I wasn't apologizing either!" He didn't understand it himself, but Pyro was feeling like his life depended on his defending himself. He didn't know why, but he was scared. So scared.

"I can't... understand you... you dumb... sonofa..."

"I was just telling you about my-"

"BITCH!"

"Why w-won't you..." Pyro was on the verge of crying. He couldn't remember why he had wanted to talk to this awful person in the first place. Why on earth _had_ he?

Both Pyros fell silent for a moment, each trying to gather the strength to escape. But BLU's legs could no longer support it and RED felt like if he moved a muscle, something terrible would happen. In the end it was the BLU Pyro who spoke again first.

"Either take your fucking mask off... and tell me why you aren't killing me... or kill me." Although the words were still harsh, the tone was much less abrasive this time. It seemed as if the energy it took to be angry was abandoning the injured mercenary.

"No." It seemed like that, at least, had been understood.

"No? What the... What the... What the hell is the matter with you?" When that got no response, the BLU laughed and rolled back around so that it was lying on its stomach again. "Here... I'm not looking. I guess... you must have... fucked up your face. Fine..."

Pyro felt like he was being led into a trap, but he also wanted to explain himself. He wasn't the kind of bastard who spent his time taunting or giving insincere words of apology... he just needed to let that be known. And with that white face hidden back in the dirt, things seemed to be getting easier again. Just to be safe, though, Pyro turned completely around so that only his back was facing the prone BLU and he only peeled the smallest fraction of his mask up off of his face. He didn't expose anything either, he just created an opening near the bottom of the chin where his voice could escape.

"I-I..." He had to clear his throat. Damn desert air was drying his mouth out. "I-I, u-uh, I'm..."

He just couldn't do it. Pyro hastily tucked his mask back down, cursing himself for the way his voice had sounded. He had been practically squeaking.

"You... what?" The BLU's voice suddenly sounded much softer. Dammit. Now that the enemy had heard him stuttering like that, everyone else would eventually find out just how pathetic he was. They all already thought he was pathetic of course, but now... Dammit.

"What the... hell were you... going to say?"

Stupid, stupid. Why was he peeling his sweaty mask back up again? What was wrong with him? He was digging his own grave!

"I-I..." He tried to work up enough saliva in his mouth to moisten the back of his throat again. "W-why...u-uh, um, I-I mean, er..." He just wanted to scream. Why on earth was he doing this? He felt so unprotected!

"Look..." BLU interrupted, mercifully allowing Pyro to lower his mask and turn around again. "I'm asking you... a favor..." The white face was exposed again, but now it was smudged with mud that was half sand and half sweat. Pyro couldn't stop looking at it. "Please... I hate dying. I mean... who doesn't...? But...I'm going to be honest... I'll leave the... bullshit out... for you. It's not... as bad... when you do it."

Pyro felt nauseous. Why couldn't that BLU lower its mask again?

"I mean... you can relate... right? Fire... Fire isn't so bad. I... hate bullets. But fire... isn't so bad."

This was wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong.

"So... do me a favor..."

Oh God.

"And send me home... warm."

Pyro was trembling. This was unreal. Was this person... really asking him to burn them?

Was that possible?

It seemed to good to be – – Oh God, it was too good to be true. That perfectly smooth, pearly skin would burn so good, so good, so wrong, so fucking wrong!

Oh God.

"Listen... I don't know where... I'll end up now. This base is... RED now... but I know we'll... run into each other again."

Maybe no screaming. Maybe no fighting. No anger or danger. Just burning. Just burning.

Oh God.

"You do this... for me... and I promise..." A dry chuckle. "I'll return... the fuckin' favor. Ten times over. You... got lucky today."

Pyro could feel himself breathing harder than he ever had during his earlier fighting. He could hear and feel his blood pumping in his head.

"We... we ain't done..."

"Hey mumbles! You out here?"

No. Oh no. Not Scout. No, not now. No. He needed more time... Oh God. The BLU was grabbing onto his arm. So tightly.

"Please... I fuckin' hate that kid. I don't want... him to do it..."

Another thing in common. Oh God. It was now or never.

The click and the hiss sounded so much louder than normal.

"Where are ya, mutie?"

Scout's voice was getting louder, too. And yet, still he hesitated. Maybe he was about to wake up.

But then the BLU nodded.

And the fire was burning.

And that beautiful white parchment that had been hiding underneath his worst enemy began to blister and crack. Gas and fire and smoke and fire and fire and fire and fire wrapped around a gentle moan that would be forever burned in Pyro's memory.

Or had he himself been moaning? Or had it been both? He couldn't have been imagining that, could he?

Oh God.

* * *

On that day, Pyro decided that if anybody ever asked why he got out of bed in the morning (fat chance, not many people cared to ask him anything) he would tell them this: Respawn felt good. And hearing the BLU Spy sing for him was nice. And the kiss of the Medigun made dealing with the pompous Nazi worth it. But nothing - NOTHING compared to simply recalling the memory of what he had once shared with a kindred spirit on the battlefield. One person had made life seem worth living and re-living again.

On that day, Pyro fell in love with BLU Pyro. And he would love her until the day he died for good.

* * *

**That was tons of fun, and I hope you enjoyed it. Thanks for reading, and hey, I'd really appreciate feedback of any kind, were you so inclined. **


End file.
